Chapter Twenty: Peas in a Pod

Haruka removed the helmet but remained on her motorcycle. She passed her hand through her hair anxiously and smoothed the grey blazer Hotaru insisted she wear tonight. Parked across the street from the art gallery the blonde watched as art lovers and supporters filed into the building as the minutes ticked away. The front of the gallery was clear glass and she could see the gathering of people as they gravitated to the student's work which hung on the walls. Though she had passed by the gallery many times she had never stepped foot inside of it. For her, it was a completely different world-one that seemed where only the rich and elegant rubbed elbows with each other as they discussed business and bought art for ridiculous amounts. A voice inside her said she would never belong there in a million years; she was too gruff, too poor, too uneducated.

That thought alone almost made her turn back until she caught a glimpse of cascading hair the color of ocean waves. The sight of it brought back the faint scent of cool cucumber melon that seemed to cling to Michiru. An emotion unfamiliar to her until she met Michiru clogged her throat and stopped her breath. Immediately the woman was swallowed back into the crowd and Haruka felt like she could breathe again. It never ceased to amaze her how caught up she felt in Michiru once the woman was in sight. It was a dangerous, addicting feeling and at times she wondered if Michiru even felt close to the same.

Taking her phone out of her jacket pocket she looked down at a message she received from the student.

Haruka, I'm thinking of you. My

exhibit will be opening in a few

days. It would make me incredibly

happy if you could attend.

The blonde had received the message days before; it included an attachment with the details regarding time and location and upon looking at the address Haruka realized the gallery was not located far from St. Lulim's Academy. She recalled the evening when they had encountered Ito's men in the alley behind Etoile before returning to Michiru's apartment. A mixture of pride and sincerity in the woman's eyes had shone through when she admitted she wanted to tell Haruka her good news. Michiru had worked hard, Haruka recognized, the woman had talent but there was also effort involved when it came to her pieces. It announced itself in her work. It had been fascinating to look at the woman's art and see the world through a different pair of eyes.

Michiru's message to her was simple but she felt the pull of an invisible plea contained in between the words. Haruka also thought of the artist often; had thought of hopping on her bike and going to see her. But every time she did the lesson she learned with Hikari would lash out and curb any impulses she felt. No matter how sincere Michiru appeared, it could very well be an act.

"You should go," said a voice from over her shoulder and Haruka's head almost collided with Hotaru's as the young girl leaned over the couch in order to peer at the blonde's phone.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Anger made Haruka's voice rise but Hotaru skipped out of her reach, appearing unfazed.

"You were spacing out, so I was curious," the girl replied nonchalantly. The were still playing the waiting game in Aomori, and Haruka was growing increasingly restless while Hotaru grew bored. Reina was resting in the bedroom she shared with her youngest daughter and the girl had joined Haruka in the living room.

"You really are nosy," Haruka growled at her though there was no menace in her words. The anger she felt had dissolved away as quickly as it came.

"Seriously, why don't you go?" Hotaru asked, "What's wrong with her?"

It was a very good question Haruka thought, the side of her that yearned for Michiru and thought of her often answered, "Nothing's wrong with her..." She trailed off, completing the sentence in her head ...nothing might be wrong with Michiru, It could just be me.

"...I can't bring myself to trust her completely," the tall woman reluctantly admitted out loud.

"Why?" Hotaru asked, her voice and face displaying innocence, "Did she do something?"

That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? With a sigh Haruka slumped back into the couch. A moment passed and she swept her hand through the locks on her head, the way she often did when she was frustrated. Michiru hadn't done anything but be herself ever since they met. It was Haruka who had drawn the parallels between Michiru and Hikari. But having similar backgrounds didn't necessarily mean they shared similar viewpoints. She stood, grabbing her jacket on the way to the door.

"I'm going out for some air," she muttered before stepping outside. The cold air hit her face as she walked out the gate and continued down the street. Now that Ito was not an issue she needed to figure out exactly what was going to happen with Michiru. At the very least she owed the woman an apology.

She glanced up again. Michiru remained hidden by the mass of people but she felt the pull to see her. To be so close yet to feel so far apart. At that moment Haruka wanted nothing more than to close the distance. She was a moth; and Michiru a flame. Swinging her leg over the seat she stood upright and steeled herself. Exhaling, she straightened her blazer once more and crossed the street. She had never felt so nervous, not even in front of Ito.

Her hand landed on the cool steel of the door handle and she pulled it open, vowing she wouldn't leave until she had spoken to Michiru. The classy music and hushed conversation enveloped her as she took a few steps into the gallery. A slight frown arranged itself onto her features, as the unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling swept through her. She scanned the crowd for Michiru and everything around her slowed, blurred into the background as her eyes met the ones she sought. Michiru was stunning in a knee-length black dress that left her arms bared and clung to her chest and hips. For a few seconds she felt envious of the garment before she registered the shock that had come to Michiru's face.

But Michiru wasn't looking at her, but rather at someone behind her and the glass she held slipped from her fingers. Surrounding conversations halted at the sound though the music continued to play. Haruka didn't notice however; she turned, curious as to find who had caused such an alarmed expression on the artist's visage. Her lips tightened instantly, her face hot then cold with anger and disbelief.

Hikari.

Hikari paused as well, a flash of surprise shining momentarily in her eyes before a smirk came to her lips. She was beautiful as ever but Haruka could sense underneath the woman remained as toxic as she'd been at fourteen.

"Haruka."

"What are you doing here?" Haruka's enraged voice emerged as a whisper but there was no doubt Hikari heard the question despite the resumed conversations in the gallery. Her smile widened. After her initial surprise her countenance remained unchanged as she continued to stare at Haruka. A hand met Haruka's, the touch warm and familiar, the fingers pleading with her own as Michiru joined her side.

"Congratulations, Michiru," Hikari turned her attention on the woman beside Haruka and her blood ran cold. She tugged her fingers free of the student's hand. Her eyes were chips of ice as she glared at Michiru.

"You know her?"

The woman nodded, unable to answer in the face of Haruka's fury. Michiru's response was a catalyst for the winter that bloomed in her chest and spread outward. She had been right to compare them all along.

Two peas in a fucking pod.

She was spared further words when a man and woman Haruka recognized from the photo in Michiru's apartment joined the artist. Her parents.

"Michiru, is everything alright?" The woman asked the student and Haruka did not stay to hear the reply. She was out the door and already across the street when she heard the sound of someone running behind her.

"Wait, Haruka! Please, wait!"

She spun around to confront Michiru one last time. "Wait?" A hoarse laugh rang out in the evening air. "Why? So you can string me along further and humiliate me? Better yet, should I go back in there so you can do it with an audience?"

"Haruka-" Michiru's eyes glinted with moisture but Haruka could not stop.

"Don't fuck with me. Who do you think you are? Do you think you could just treat someone like a plaything, expecting they wouldn't have any feelings? Do you-" But the rest of her words never came because Michiru's palm connected solidly with the side of her face and the sudden sting silenced her. She gaped at the woman, as blood rushed under the surface of her skin where Michiru struck her.

"Don't you dare talk as if you know everything." Michiru spat. The blonde expected a further barrage of words like her own and was taken completely by surprise when the woman closed the distance between them, wrapped her arms around Haruka's neck and pressed their lips together.

To be continued.